"These creatures probably cause more ruckuss on their own," The Shoanti grims, nods in thanks to Marak, flicks the blood from his blades, "Their deaths are but a blessing to these lands, a blessing I am relishing at the moment."

Muchorak then looks to Romon, "Lead on friend my blades still hunger."

This filthy bedroom contains little more than a lumpy mattress heaped with twigs, mud, and hopefully little else, although the stink of sewage in the room would seem to indicate otherwise. Dozens of vaguely humanoid fetishes crafted out of bits of leather, straw, corn husks, twigs, and bones hang from cords throughout the room.

As Romon examines the door Inikai looks at the boarded-up window. "What about loosening a window in case we need to retreat? This way we would not have to retrace all of our steps to the front door. We could leave the boards in place but take away enough nails so that they could be forced easily from within. But they would stay in place so that observers from outside would not know that they had been tampered with."

It would appear that the Grauls put all their faith in the traps covering the kitchen as this door is again untrapped

The cloying stink of this room is nearly overwhelming. Buckets of filth are stacked against the walls, fat ravenous flies lazily circling their rims.

The room itself is dominated by an immense bed, its ratty sheets stained beyond hope. A huge easel sits next to the bed with a palette of various shades of brown and red paint. The source of these morbid pigments— several crushed organs and ragged stumps of flesh—sit in receptacles next to the easel. A set of human-hair brushes jut from a broken skull by the easel, while a comb made from a human mandible sits on a small oak bedside table nearby, its teeth clotted with thick strands of greasy black hair.

The bodies of three horribly deformed men dressed in ragged finery are propped up in huge open coffins against the far wall, their mouths sewn tightly shut with lengths of hair.

Hovering over the bed is a hideous sight.7 immensely corpulent aging 'women' her straggly hair patchy and matted the worst of her body hidden beneath a massive shapeless red cloths.They move in a confusing overlapping pattern making it difficult to determine whether they are indeed living or some form of projection.

"Only if you live," Esteriande's voice is eerily calm. As the evil in the corpulent woman strikes her. It takes no deep insight to see that here is one heart of evil in this place, and it is a heart that must be purged. Seeing the woman is clearly some sort of caster, Esteriande does not leave her time to attack her comrades.

...and I take it we are into initiatives at this point!

Esteriande races at the woman, her blade flashing. Attacking with Power Attack (-2/+6) & Smite Evil (+3/+7). No longer sickened, I assume.

It sounds like the coffins are slanted upright against the wall instead of being perpendicular to the floor. Is that right? Also, is the nature of the bodies in them obvious? This will make a difference in Inikai's actions.

Marak calls upon the arcane fury of Nethys to tear at the energies sustaining the ogrekin corpses, and a rush of warmth and a tingling sensation, like a presentiment of lightning before a storm, accompanies his words of rebuke as he clasps his holy symbol.

Romon removes another image leaving only 3 of them.This does nothing to lessen the grotesque effect of the huge woman's almost naked body as she rises towards the cieling(5' step equivilant) and points a finger at Muchorak yelling words of bile and hatred.

There is not enough room on the bed for Inikai to jump on it with Esteriende already there and swinging her sword about. He has no wish to be eviscerated by a mis-aimed attack. Instead he draws his dagger and throws it at the beastly woman.